


Half of Me

by TheCabinKey



Category: Biohazard | Resident Evil (Gameverse), Resident Evil - All Media Types
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-01
Updated: 2013-12-01
Packaged: 2018-01-03 03:37:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 916
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1065294
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheCabinKey/pseuds/TheCabinKey
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Upon discovering Carla's body, Ada has an unusual but profoundly saddening dream that Carla was a long lost sister, ravaged by the spell of sickness - acknowledging the affect a doppleganger has on Ada's psyche.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Half of Me

**Author's Note:**

> Suggested listening: Half of Me - Emily Browning  
> 

The woman lay dead, straight-legged under snowy-white lights on a flat lake of clean concrete, lights that gave reflection to the pool of blood beneath her. A sleeping beauty. Carla Radames was no more. The city lights of China shined far off on the coast. The boat was her grave. 

Ada's heels clicked – a sign that she was on smooth, level ground. She clicked to the body. A body that was 3-D. No ashes, no coffins. Still perfectly robust, and it looked a lot like her, a helluva lot. Ada sighed at what should be an unreachable sight. Impossible. But there it was, she watched herself play dead. From there on out, in that cargo boat, she would always know what she would look like to others when they stared at her lifeless body. 

Before she let her tongue slip, for knowing its nature, she let herself sit down. Ada backed away, sat down against a steel cabin exterior beside a rotting crate. Her leather pants groaned. Her guard was down but she showed no concern – a feeling born from exhaustion. She watched her dead doppelganger. Unknowingly sat guard for her.  
She decided to join this practice by resting her heavy lids. What's the difference between dying and sleeping. They would both be unaware. 

 

She was home. In her old bedroom, still garnished with teenaged years. What could have been her kitchen, but on second thought, her bedroom. Maybe the lighting was the same. It took on a pale-hued glow, almost green from thick fog filtering the sun as it spilled through her open curtains. Off-white furniture and walls. 

Resting in her bed was Carla. She bore a hospital gown and I.D. Bracelet. She sunk into the mattress as if she had been there a long time, endured a deep patience. Her face was pallid and sickly. She was in a still, sleeping slumber. 

Ada instantly had knowledge – false memories flashed before her eyes of Carla. A younger sister that she loved. That she grew up with. That looked so much like her. But then she fell ill. The bed was her home. Days and days of sitting by her side until she fell asleep, days of tremendous sadness. Sickness works wonders.  
Carla's head was tilted back. Her mouth hung open, exuding nasally breathing. Ada stood over her and gently shook her shoulder.

“Carla?”

The sound of her loud breathing stopped. Her eyes slowly opened – looked up at the ceiling, then shifted to her left and made eye-contact.  
“Hi Ada. I thought you left.” Equanimity. She was still waking up. 

“No, I'm right here.” Ada felt the heaviness at the front of her face. She was going to cry. Her sister looked so old. 

“It's nice to see you.” Her eyes were struggling to keep open. 

"It's nice to see you too.” Ada's lip trembled. She sat down in a white-wicker chair next to Carla's bed. She leaned her head against Carla's shoulder, tears making contact with her ugly, clinical gown. Ada thought Carla wore it with dignity.“It's too late to go back isn't it?”

“What do you mean?” A whisper.

“I don't know.” Ada whispered back. There was a long pause.“Where is mom and dad?”

“I haven't seen them in a long time.” That answers that. Despair answers despair. Carla's eyes were closed.

Ada tightly, almost silently sobbed.“Why did this have to happen?” Carla half-opened her eyes, seemingly waking up from seconds of sleep. 

“It's okay.” She loosely rested a hand on Ada's. Back to sleep. Without moving her hand, Ada brought her head up and looked into Carla's face. She sat like this for a long moment, watching her sister in peace. Sleeping and dreaming. Ada wondered what she dreamed about – maybe she was away from the suffering she never asked for, that she dealt with in an uncomplaining patience. 

“When you go, half of me will go with you.”

Carla awoke. 

“Could you get me a glass of water? I've been so thirsty.” Her voice was weak.

“Yeah.” Ada got up, wiping tears from her cheeks. She bent over and lightly kissed Carla on her forehead. It was warm. She turned and left to the open doorway. She felt as though she were trudging through an invisible marsh. Thick and implacable. She could see the kitchen, the shimmery sink. The house had taken on a lonely, pale green hue. In the doorway, Ada quickly looked back over her shoulder and into the bedroom, her eyes red and watery, but wide, as if something had surprised her. For once, everything did.

 

Ada woke to find herself crying. She hadn't done that since she was a kid. Her knees were brought up to her chest, arms wrapped around them. She dried her face on her red buttoned top and took a long look at her twin. The body hadn't moved. 

She stood up, sluggish, pushing off the waterlogged crate beside her. She walked to the body, stretching and shaking out her legs on the way. She neared Carla and slowed her pace, until she stood over what she could only call her reflection with a red scarf. The close proximity felt familiar. Ada seemingly froze, watching, keeping this stature until she slowly bent over without warning and extended an arm. Her black gloved hand almost touched Carla's lifeless face, a face so familiar it could be family, a face that was such a shame, but on second thought, Ada pulled back.


End file.
